Leaves in the Wind
by Haunted Scars
Summary: Constable George Crabtree's life is suddenly changed one afternoon when he saves a woman from ending her life. He senses she is not telling him everything, and as they get to know each other, feelings begin to bloom... CrabtreexOC
1. Chapter 1

"Constable! Constable!" a young voice yelled from down the street.

Constable George Crabtree turned at the sound, seeing a young boy running down the sidewalk towards him.

"What's the matter?" Crabtree bent over, his hands on his knees so he was at eye level with the child.

"There's a woman, sir! She's in a window! I think she's going to jump, sir!"

The boy took off running again, beckoning for the constable to follow him. Crabtree followed the boy and they dashed through a number of streets, the officer's eyes on all of the buildings they passed, looking for a woman about to jump.

"She's up there, sir!" the boy stopped and pointed to a third story window, two across from the end of the building.

Crabtree panted and looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. There in the window a young woman was perched, looking down onto the citizens that had formed a crowd around the area, all looking up at the scene.

"Go find another constable! Quickly now!" Crabtree ordered; the boy took off at a sprint.

"Miss! Miss, please go back inside! Everything will be fine!" Crabtree called up, frantically turning his head from side to side looking for another officer.

The woman let out an audible sob, of which Crabtree heard three stories below. He had never dealt with the mentally unstable before and his head spun with what he should do. He had not been trained in these sorts of dealings—if only the boy had reached someone else before him. They would know what to do!

"Miss, I assure you everything will be fine as long as you go back inside. Please miss!" Crabtree begged, hoping he did not sound too desperate.

He heard pounding footsteps coming towards him, Crabtree turned and saw it was another constable.

"She's going to jump. I don't know what to say to calm her down. If you talk to her and make sure she doesn't leave that window, I'll go up and grab her from behind." Crabtree told him, breaking off at a run towards the entrance to the building.

He opened the door and sprinted up the steps, running and running until he reached the third floor. Once he got to the landing, he looked at both ends of a hallway, trying to figure out which room the woman was in. He went to the second door from the wall, throwing the door open. He saw the woman in the window, her loose hair flying in the breeze. She didn't glance back towards the man who was quickly heading towards her. Crabtree threw his arms around her waist, pulling the young woman back into the room. They landed on the floor, Crabtree pinned under the girl, his arms still around her.

"I thoroughly apologize, miss. I had to do this for your own safety..." Crabtree let go of the lady, getting to his feet and helping her up.

Tears stained her face, leaving slight smudges of makeup around her eyes. Crabtree closed the window, looking out of it and giving the constable below a sign of success.

"Miss...If there is anything I can do to console you, please do not hesitate to ask. A friend of mine is below and will come up shortly with an explanation of what we need to do about this...um, situation." George took his helmet off, twisting it nervously in his hands.

"Constable..." the young woman muttered, her face down and her hands wringing her skirt.

"Miss?" he took a step closer to her.

"I wish I could leave here, Constable. I feel so..." she broke off into more sobs.

George reached within his jacket for a handkerchief and offered it to the young lady. She took it gently and wiped her eyes with it.

"Thank you for this kindness, Constable..." tears continued to run down her face, and soon George found himself holding the woman close to his chest.

Constable Crabtree held the woman tightly, the rhythmic shaking of her body reminding him of trees shaking their leaves in a constant wind. Her light brown hair smelled of peaches, and it tickled his face as she wept. The girl released him, he slowly let go and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, Constable." she said, slowly gaining whatever composure she had before she decided to step on the ledge.

"You're welcome, miss."

"Constable...I need your help. I know what they're going to do to me since I've tried this. I don't want to go there...Please, Constable. If you could get me out, I would be forever in your debt."

"Miss...I couldn't possibly..."

"Constable...?"

"Constable George Crabtree, miss."

"Constable Crabtree, please understand. I'm fine. I'm not crazy like they will think I am."

George looked the woman in the face; her smooth complexion and hazel eyes pleading with him. Tears brimmed her eyes yet again.

"Miss...I can't do that. I would love to help you, but I couldn't possibly do what you're asking of me."

"Constable Crabtree. Please help. I'm not insane! I had to do this...If you get me out of this predicament I will tell you why."

In that moment, Crabtree saw what he needed to do. Although he knew it was against his duties as an officer of the law, he couldn't help but promise this woman that he would save her.

"Alright, miss. I'll help you. What's your name?"

"Cecile Greyson."

The constable from below entered, taking his helmet off.

"I'll find you." Crabtree whispered to the woman. He walked out of the room, going to notify the hospital and department of the day's exciting events.


	2. Chapter 2

George stood across the street from the local mental institution, wringing his hands in front of him, nervous about whether his plan would be successful. He took a deep breath and smoothed his coat jacket, grateful that he was not wearing his uniform. He did not want to be recognized. The constable crossed the street at a brisk pace, wanting to reduce any amount of time that someone had to see him. He quickly walked the path to the doors of the institution and climbed the stairs.

He opened the doors to the building and entered. A small lobby made up the room, chairs and doors lining the walls. A large desk was placed in the middle of the room, a young nurse sitting behind it.

"Excuse me, miss." George said as he got closer to the desk.

"May I help you, sir?" the nurse replied, looking up from her paperwork.

"Yes, I think so. A woman was recently admitted: my sister, Cecile Greyson. I just came to drop of some personal effects and speak with her. Is that possible?"

"I'm afraid you can't visit any patients, sir…I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience."

"Miss, you don't understand. I need to see her—it's urgent. My sister is afraid of what's happening and I need to tell her that everything will be alright. I care deeply for her; I'm the only family she has left…" Crabtree's palms sweated as he told the lie, he desperately hoped the woman could not tell he was fibbing.

"I don't know, sir…"

"Please, miss. I'm leaving for America tomorrow and this may be the last time I see her for some years. I need to tell her goodbye and that I love her and will miss her."

Crabtree's words must have struck a nerve within the woman, for she glanced around her for any doctors or other hospital staff.

"Alright. Follow me, sir." The nurse stood and quickly ran a finger over a page in a ledger, looking for Cecile's name.

The nurse entered a door on the left side of the room and went down a long hallway. She paused at a door and entered, motioning for the constable to stop for a moment. The woman reemerged shortly after, a large ring of keys in her hand. She began to walk quicker, finally stopping at the last door in the hallway.

"You have five minutes. Please hurry—I'm not allowed to do this." The nurse unlocked the door and pushed the constable inside, closing the door after him.

The room was dimly lit with a gas lamp high on the wall. A white bed lay in the corner, barred windows in the center of the room. Cecile was curled on the bed, her body shaking as she cried.

"Miss Greyson?" George asked tentatively, afraid to scare her.

The woman looked up, her face stained with tears. A welt was beginning to form on her forehead, blood crusting on the side of her face. Bruising was forming around her left eye, turning the skin blue and black.

"Constable Crabtree?"

Cecile jumped off of the bed and ran to George, throwing her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her tightly. He felt her body shaking, just as it had the day before when he saved her life.

"I thought you weren't coming for me…Thank you, Constable. Thank you!"

George did not want to let the woman go, but he was only allowed so much time to help her escape. He released her, slipping the pack he had on his back into his hands. He opened it and took out a large metal file, hoping it would do their cause justice.

"This will help you break the windows and file the bars off. I'm only allowed in here for a few more minutes. You need to hide this until I am gone, and then break the windows. I'll be waiting underneath the sill outside. Alright?" George handed the woman the file; she tested the weight in her hands and went to put it underneath the bed.

"Thank you so much, constable."

The door opened and the nurse entered. George quickly pulled Cecile into a hug, putting a gentle hand on the back of her head.

"It's going to be alright, Cecile. I'll try to come back from America when I have more money. I'm sure by then you'll be feeling better. Then we can go south and start a new life. Alright?" the constable said as he stroked her hair.

"I'm going to miss you. I promise I'll get better. Hurry back soon…" she replied, going along with George's lies.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to leave now. I don't want to get in any trouble…" The nurse interrupted, jingling the keys in her hands.

"I'll be thinking of you every day." George released Cecile and gave her a reassuring look before leaving with the nurse.

The constable followed the nurse back to the lobby, leaving after giving the woman many thanks for her sacrifice. George made sure the door securely closed behind him and jogged down the stairs, launching into a run to get to Cecile's window. He found hers and lifted himself up into the sill, pulling at the bars that Cecile had already cut through. George bent them in numerous directions in order to make the woman's escape as smooth as possible.

"I don't think anyone heard the glass break—watch out, there are shards right next to where you're sitting." Cecile said as she continued to saw through the bars.

Sweat began to bead on George's forehead as he continued to strain to bend the bars. Every now and then Cecile would glance at him and give a small smile, as if to reassure herself that he was real.

"There. I think I've gotten all of them." Cecile threw the file onto the ground, clapping her hands together quietly to get rid of the excess metal shavings on them.

"I just have a few more bars to bend, and then I can help you out. Can you perhaps try to work on those?" George said, jerking his head to the right towards two bars that weren't yet bent.

Cecile gripped the metal, putting all of her strength and weight into bending the resistant material.

Suddenly, George heard the crunching of gravel a few feet from him. He hissed at Cecile to duck down into her room and he instantly hit the ground, heart pounding. The noise came closer, and soon a wet snuffling sound was heard. George lifted himself slightly to get a better view of whatever the cause of the noise was—he breathed a sigh of relief. It was only a stray dog!

"Miss Greyson, it's alright. It's only a dog." Crabtree returned to working on her escape.

"Thank goodness." She rose, going back to working on bending the metal.

"I think that will do it, Miss Greyson. Let me help you…"

George wiped the glass shards off of the sill with his coat sleeve and stuck his arms through the gap that he and Cecile had made. She took his hands; they were smooth and cold, sending shivers up his spine at her touch. She lifted herself gracefully onto the sill, swinging her feet over the edge easily.

"May I?" George let his hands hover over her waist.

Cecile nodded in response, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. George placed his hands on her sides; she put hers on his shoulders. The constable lifted the woman slightly and he guided her fall to the ground.

"We should get out of the area. Are you ready?" the constable asked.

"I'm ready. Thank you, constable." Cecile reached up and gave George a quick peck on the cheek.

"Let's go." George took the woman's hand and they began to run from the building.


	3. Chapter 3

"Where are we going?" Cecile asked.

George and the woman were walking down a street, passing many dimly lit houses. No one was out for a nighttime stroll, which made the constable less nervous. His eyes scanned their surroundings, looking for anything out of place that may foil Cecile's escape.

"My apartment? I hope you don't mind…" George's face flushed in embarrassment.

"Um…" Cecile was speechless, her face flushing as well. She had never been alone with a male that was not family before—especially in such an intimate setting.

"I can bring you to a boarding house or hotel if that would make you more comfortable!" he quickly said, trying not to embarrass himself further.

"No, no! It's alright!" Cecile glanced at George, seeing his face turn a very bright crimson.

They continued walking down the street, a light wind blowing Cecile's hair back from her face. George could clearly see the blood that was caked on the side of her face and her black and blue eye. His heart panged in hurt as he saw her injuries—she had done nothing to deserve the abuse she had endured.

"Here, take this…" George paused on the sidewalk to take his jacket off. He handed it to Cecile, who gratefully put it on, "This too," he took his hat of and plopped it onto her head.

Cecile let out a small giggle as she adjusted the hat on her head. George gently took her arm and put it in the crook of his elbow; she put her hand on his forearm. They continued to walk, taking an easygoing pace.

"Thank you for saving me, Constable Crabtree." Cecile said, squeezing his arm gently.

"You're welcome, miss. And please call me George—enough with the formalities." George laid a hand on hers, the coldness of it sending shivers up his spine yet again.

"Please call me Cecile, then." She gave him a small smile.

They neared closer to George's shabby apartment; he dug in his pocket with his free hand for his key. They entered the front door and went up a staircase. George stopped at one of the doors in the hall, unlocking his door.

"Welcome to my home! I apologize for the mess…" he held the door open for Cecile, who stepped inside and began looking around.

An old couch was on one side of the room underneath a window, with a small table in front of it. On the other side of the couch were shelves and cupboards for food, an icebox, and a small sink. There was a door opposite from where Cecile was standing, which she guessed lead to his bedroom.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to bathe? Are you tired?" George shut the door and began bustling around his apartment, trying to clean up whatever messes he could.

"Can I say 'I guess' to all three of those questions?" Cecile smiled.

"If you want, you can bathe now while I try to make something for dinner. Then we can eat together. Does that sound good?"

"That sounds fine."

George smiled at the woman and went into the bedroom to fetch a towel. He came back with the cloth, but also a pair of trousers and a plain white button down shirt.

"I forgot that you don't have a change of clothes…Will these do?" he handed her the garments.

"Of course! Thank you so much, Constab—George."

Cecile went to the door of the apartment, her hand on the knob. "Where are the facilities?"

"Oh! Last door on the left." George offered her a grin.

Cecile left, closing the door softly behind her. George quickly gathered all of the junk he had acquired in his home and threw it into his bedroom, slamming that door shut afterwards. He cleared the table near the couch, throwing crumbs out of the window. He took two plates out of a cupboard and two glasses, which he filled with water. George paused for a moment, one hand on the top of his head and the other on his hip, at a loss.

"What do I have to _eat_?" he groaned.

George dug through cupboards, searching for something that he thought Cecile would like. He took out bread and jam, desperately hoping it would make a suitable dinner. He laid the bread out on another plate and placed it on the table along with the jam. He didn't want to seem nervous or anxious—he took a book from a shelf and sat on the couch to read.

He was about a page into his book when he slapped his forehead in remembrance. George jumped up from the couch and rushed into his room. His bed was in the middle of the small room, covered with the miscellaneous items he had thrown in earlier. He grabbed all he could in an armful and threw it into the closet in the corner. He stripped the sheets off of the bed and quickly put the spares he had on, throwing the soiled ones in the closet with the rest of his possessions. George fluffed the pillows a bit before finding the room satisfactory. He went back into the other room and began reading again, waiting for Cecile.

The door creaked open and Cecile entered, wringing her hair with a towel. She wore George's clothes—they hung on her slim frame, the sleeves and pants rolled up. She smiled at George and hung her towel on the back of a chair, walking lightly over to George and plopping down on the sofa next to him.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done." Cecile put her head back and closed her eyes.

"It's the least I could have done…" George's face flushed; he was grateful that her eyes were closed.

George allowed her to sit in silence for a few moments. He listened to the easy sound of her breathing, watching her chest rise and fall with each new breath she took. She stretched her arms and legs and opened her eyes. George quickly averted his gaze to the makeshift dinner he had prepared.

"I have some bread and jam, if that will suit you…" he took a piece of bread and spread it with the fruit preserve, trying to distract himself from thoughts of Cecile's body.

"That sounds great, thank you!" Cecile took the bread from George and took a bite. "This is certainly much better than what they gave me at the hospital…"

George took a nibble from his bread, chewing it thoughtfully. He wondered whether he should ask her why she had wanted to take her own life, or if it were too soon to intrude on something so personal. He picked up his glass of water and took a sip.

"Cecile?" George gazed into his water glass, holding it with both hands.

"Yes?" she looked at him, her eyes shining, even though the surrounding flesh was still black and blue.

"Can I ask you about…when we met?" George slowly and quietly said, trying not to open emotional wounds.

"I knew this would come." Cecile swallowed her bread, lowering her head. Her brown hair fell and covered the sides of her face, the dampness making it stick to her skin.

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable; that is most certainly not my intention. If you would prefer, we could talk about it another day…?"

"No—no. You have a right to know."

Cecile reached for her water glass on the table, her hand shaking. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink, her hand still quivering. Water slopped out of the sides and landed in her lap; she paid no mind.

"Well, for starters…I was born into a well to-do American family. My family had come from generations of laborers, and when my great-grandfather and his wife came into fortune, they managed it wisely and invested in profitable businesses. The normal story of a successful businessman, am I correct?" she laughed slightly to herself, "I was sent to wonderful schools and I learned about the ways of the world. I traveled a lot and frequented the high societies of all of Europe's major cities. On my return trip from my last engagement in Europe, I witnessed a murder on my cruise liner. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me—I had dined with the man hours earlier. He was the owner of a large corporation in New York City, and my grandfather wanted me to warm him up to become business partners with my father. I witnessed his murder as I was walking on deck late at night. The people who killed him saw me—I tried running, but they caught me. They told me that if I told anyone what I saw, they would kill me. They threatened to torture and kill my family as well if I did not kill myself first. I was terrified."

"What did you do?"

"I told—I had to. I couldn't live with the knowledge that I let someone's killers go free. I waited for three days after I had landed before I went to the police and told them what I saw. The police never caught the murderers, but they're following me. I've seen them everywhere I go, and I know they're ready to kill me at any moment. I traveled all over America and most of Canada before I realized that I had to take my own life to save my family. I don't know if they know that I'm here now—I feel like my brief stay at the hospital threw them for a loop. But George…I have not seen my family for two years. They think I'm dead."

"I am very sorry for the things you have gone through. I had no idea…"

Cecile covered her face with her hands as tears began to fall down her face. George put an arm around her, trying to soothe her. With a gentle hand, he tucked her hair behind her ear and slowly removed one of her hands from her face. He lightly ran his thumb down the course that a tear had taken. She turned her face to him, her bottom lip quivering and her eyes full of tears.

"I'll protect you, I promise. No one will ever hurt you." George put his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

"Thank you…" she whispered.


End file.
